Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing (Hautboy Series Book 3)

by Anne Berkeley

  “You’re in rare form tonight.”

  “It’s my first night off in almost two weeks.” I could actually step out of my room and not run into Jake Whalen. I was looking forward to a night free of his perpetual torment.

  “You’re getting paid to gossip with a rock star all day.”

  “I’m a nanny for their three-year-old, and I keep an eye on Coop on the sly.”

  “Tough life.”

  It would be a cake walk if it wasn’t for Jake, I agreed. I liked Cooper, and Levy was a great kid. He was low maintenance. My job couldn’t get any easier. If it wasn’t for Jake Whalen… “It’s temporary.”

  “They’d probably keep you on. They’ll be looking for a nanny.”

  “I don’t want to be a nanny.”

  “But you just said you were their nanny.” The lights on my car flashed as I pressed the fob. Peter stopped beside the passenger side and stared over the hood.

  “I also said it was temporary.” Opening my door, I slid behind the wheel. Goosebumps rose across my skin as the cold from my leather seats seeped through my jeans. Winter had chased the last remnants of spring from the air the second the sun dipped below the horizon. I cranked up the heat as Peter dropped into the passenger seat.

  “I don’t understand. They’re paying you well, and you only have to watch one kid. Most teachers get paid a fraction of you’re making to watch a classroom full of them.”

  “God, Peter, you’re really observant.”

  “What?” Peter objected, throwing his hands up in the air.

  “I don’t want to be a nanny.”

  “Fine. You don’t want to be a nanny.” I hoped he would let the subject drop, but I barely made it out of the parking lot when he pressed on. “What’s so bad about being a nanny?”

  “Peter!” I was going to kill him. I was going to push him out of the car.

  “I can’t help it, Paisley! I’m nervous! You’re a distraction!”

  “You played football for God’s sake! You should have nerves of steel! How did you ever make it onto the field?”

  “I watched my diet.”

  “Then why aren’t you following your diet plan?”

  “Because I don’t have a team to keep me in check!” Peter exclaimed. “I like food! It tastes good!”

  “Ok,” I settled with resolve, “so talking is a distraction. That doesn’t mean the subject needs to be about me.”

  “You didn’t want to discuss my intestinal issues.”

  “I don’t. There’re other things to talk about. Besides, concentrating on your stomach will only make it worse.”

  “Fine.” Peter stared expectantly, waiting for me to strike up a neutral topic of conversation. I would’ve rolled my eyes, but I was driving and needed to keep them on the road.

  “Tell me about this whole music career.”

  “It’s not a career. It’s an ambition. I haven’t quit construction yet.”

  “Are you actually contemplating it?”

  “No. I know you’d like to think I’m totally incompetent, but I’m not.” Cracking his window open, he inclined his head and let the fresh air wash over his face. “It’s just…there’s gotta be something better than this, you know? This shitty fucking existence of sweating my ass off every summer and freezing my balls off every winter while building some rich fuck’s house.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Yeah, I know.” More than he could ever realize.

  “I thought you liked nursing.”

  “It’s a living, but I wouldn’t consider it particularly enjoyable.”

  “What would you rather do if you had the choice?”

  “I don’t know.” If I knew, it probably would be something out of reach.

  “So what’s going on with Whalen?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. I told you that.”

  “Just checking.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Is he off limits too?”

  “I’d rather talk about your bowel movements.”

  “Whoa, not good.”

  “Yeah, I’m classifying him in line with pissing out your ass.”

  “No—no—you need to pull over. I think I’m gonna be sick.” One look at Peter and I hit the brakes. He was white as a sheet. His temples were damp. He had the back of his hand pressed to his mouth. My tires slid on the gravel as I pulled onto the shoulder. I could feel my antilock brakes stuttering against the ball of my foot. Before the car could come to a complete stop, Peter flung the door open and began barfing up what little he’d eaten for dinner.

  ♪♫♪♫

  A few drinks in and I was holding my stomach as I laughed over Peter’s loss of face. Peter watched indignantly, his mouth pressed to a thin line. “Do you laugh at your patients too?”

  “No, just you.”

  “Nice.”

  “It was well-deserved. You laughed at me often enough.”

  “With you. I laughed with you.”

  “That would entail me laughing, too.”

  “Come on—I wasn’t that bad.”

  “You were totally that bad. You always made me cry.”

  “Pax made you cry.”

  “You made me cry, and then Pax chased me off.”

  “If it rectifies things, Pax used to kick my ass after you left.”

  “I didn’t know what I did wrong.” He would just turn on me at a moment’s notice. I’d become the object of his ridicule. I played sports just as hard as any of his friends. If I skinned my knee, I never made a big deal about it. I made a point to be one of the boys.

  Peter began peeling the label from his beer bottle. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was the guys. They’d make comments, or I’d catch them looking at you. I couldn’t have that. You were my little sister.”

  “I know that now,” I said. “I was just saying I didn't know that then. You could've said something. It would've been a lot better than humiliating me.”

  “It was easier to pull your ponytail. You were just a kid.”

  “I knew a lot more than you thought. I'm only two years younger than you. I mean, maybe not the psychology, but I knew about the birds and the bees.”

  “You never said anything.”

  “I think ‘I hate you, Peter, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,’ was pretty telling.”

  “Yo, Shaw.” Cutting our conversation short, a stocky brunette guy with a faux hawk pushed through the crowd and stepped between us. “We're on in thirty. Hugh wants to go through the set list one last time and warm up”

  Peter vacated his stool and flagged down the bartender with a raise of his arm. “One more.” To bolster his courage.

  “Nick.” Peter’s band mate extended his hand in my direction. I grasped his hand and shook. His fingers were rough, calloused. A guitarist then. “You Peter’s girl?”

  “Sister, fuckwad,” Peter corrected. “Back the fuck off.” He slammed his last shot down and dropped a five on the counter. “See ya, pipsqueak.” After chucking me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me from my stool, he pushed Nick back into the crowd, effectively herding him away from me.

  “Asshole,” I muttered, rubbing the ache from my arm.

  “Some things never change, huh?” said a deep, male voice from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. First I blinked in surprise, and as recognition set in, a smile spread across my face.

  “Liam!” What I said in my head was ‘holy fucking shit.’ My hormones surged forth, giddy and approving. I had to tamp them down to refrain from humping his leg when he reached out and drew me into an embrace.

  Liam wasn’t a full-faced teen anymore. All the youth had faded from his features, leaving behind a lean, carved frame. The pale ginger boy that got razzed in high school had matured into a ruddy, muscular man with a chiseled jaw sporting a light beard. His hair was no longer shaggy, but slicked back from his face, showcasing his pale green eyes.

  “Wasn’t sure it was you at first.” Pushing me back to arm’s length, his gaze perused my feature
s.

  “It’s the violet hair.”

  Liam didn’t have full lips. His bottom lip was larger, and blush pink. As I stared, it curved into a smile. “Maybe.”

  I found myself smiling back. “So what have you been up to?”

  “School. Soccer camp, actually. I’m in an exchange program with Madrid.”

  “Madrid. Wow.” I was jealous. Madrid was on my bucket list. The world was on my bucket list.

  “Yeah, I fly back tomorrow. My sister got married last night. I came home for the wedding.”

  “You have to tell me all about it.”

  “Eh. It was a small ceremony. She had it at this little restaurant where they had their first date. The weather was good so they opened the veranda.”

  “Nice.” I’d meant Madrid, but I should’ve clarified.

  “Excuse me!” Behind me, some girl toddled over in her heels, which were obviously causing her a great deal of pain. “Are you sitting here?” She pointed at my barstool.

  “Take it,” said Liam. I blinked. Did he just give up my stool? I would’ve given it to her in any case, but he didn’t ask first. “You can have mine," he told me. "I’ll stand.” Oh. Ok. Well, didn’t I feel like a bitch. Reaching around me, he turned the seat of the stool to face away from the bar. When I stepped to climb up, he lifted me by the waist and placed me onto the stool.

  “Thank you.” He was still grasping my waist.

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’re you having?”

  "Violet!" Carter's voice rang out like the discordant skip of a record. My smile fell into a frown. Leaning to the side, I peeked around Liam’s shoulder. Carter was heading toward us with Jake trailing in his wake. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Friends of yours?” Liam inquired.

  “Sort of.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  I shook my head. “No. God, no.”

  “Good.”

  I gave a smile, but it fell short. Suddenly that hand resting on my waist felt like a betrayal against Jake. Why, I couldn’t fathom. Jake hadn’t promised me anything except to make my life a living hell. Little he knew I was already in Hell, and he was the devil that sent me there.

  “Hey, Violet!”

  “What’re you doing here?”

  “Oh, hey, Carter! How’re you?” Carter mocked. “I’m good, Violet. Thanks for asking. Who’s your friend? You going to introduce me?”

  “No.”

  “That’s no way to treat a friend.”

  “Sure it is. I’m trying to spare him the aggravation.” I looked from Carter to Liam. “You don’t want to know them. Trust me. They’re like genital herpes—they never go away.”

  Carter laughed. “That’s—that’s pretty good. You’re funny.”

  “Liam, this is Carter Strickland.” I pointed to the aforementioned sore point. “And that’s Jake Whalen.” I gestured aloofly to the latter sore on my ass.

  Liam shook Carter’s hand. The pleasantry was quick and friendly. But when he grasped Jake’s hand, the dramatics commenced. Muscles flexed. Veins bulged. Eyes locked. What. The. Fuck. This so wasn't happening. Except it was. With my luck, Henry would show up too.

  “Do I know you?” Liam asked, confused. His gaze wavered between the two musicians. “I swear I know you from somewhere.”

  “They play for Hautboy,” I explained, and watched his expression shift in doubt. They still hadn’t stopped shaking hands.

  “Hautboy? No way!”

  “Yeah way.” Jake showed his teeth in a mockery of a smile.

  “Holy fucking shit.” Liam’s face lit up with excitement. He began shaking Jake’s hand harder, all but forgetting about their pissing match.

  “We have a table over there.” Jake gestured behind him, where an empty table sat beside the rear exit. Marshall and Matthew, their bodyguards, weren't far away. “Why don't you join us?”

  “Thank you for asking,” I declined. “But Liam and I were just talking.”

  “He can come too.”

  My eyes narrowed, causing Jake to smirk. I quickly turned to Liam. “Do you want to sit with them?”

  “Do you mind?”

  Hell, yeah, I minded. It was my night off. I had no intention on spending it with Jake and Carter. They were up to no good. I had no fucking doubt.

  Nevertheless, Liam looked too excited to disappoint. I sighed internally, knowing I’d lost my place as the center of his attention. “No, it’s cool.”

  “Great!” Now that he was done with his little Jake-a-thon, his hand returned to my waist. “I’ll get your drink. What’re you having?”

  “Hard cider,” Jake replied. “She likes hard cider.”

  “A double shot of Jack and a chaser of beer,” I corrected. I needed something harder to survive sharing a table with them. Him, I corrected. Jake fucking Whalen.

  “A double shot.” Liam looked at me in doubt.

  “And a chaser of beer.”

  Another smile curved his lips. “You’ve come a long way from Strawberry Schnapps.” He winked at me, the fucker. I can’t believe he just went there. We’d drank the bottle four years ago, the night I lost my virginity to him.

  “Shut up. I was seventeen. It was all I could get.” I’d stolen it from Peter’s stash hidden behind the garage in our parents’ house. If I would’ve taken anything else, I would’ve had hell to pay.

  “I’m not complaining. It tasted good from what I recall.” So he had told me that night when he had kissed me in the backseat of his car. He said it tasted good on my lips.

  “Did you two go to school together?” Jake inquired, unusually interested. He glanced between Liam and me, mentally calculating.

  “Paisley and I dated through senior year.”

  “We're not interrupting your reunion, are we?” Jake gave his best effort to look contrite. I knew he was anything but.

  Saving me from having to answer him, my phone vibrated in my hand. The message was from Peter. “Is that Liam McDildo? Who else are you talking to? Is that Jake Whalen? Holy shit, that’s Carter Strickland! What’s he doing here?”

  I looked up. Peter was on stage, checking the equipment with the band. Except his face was now devoid of color and he was staring wide-eyed in our direction. “I'll be right back. I need to talk to Peter.” I stepped around Jake and headed for the stage. It felt a mile away as I negotiated the barroom. This wasn’t at all how my night was supposed to go. I considered sneaking out the back door. Stupid fucking asshole Jake Whalen, ruining everything.

  Perspiration beaded across my face like a veil of humiliation. My ears glowed with heat. This was my fucking bar. He’d gone out of his way to come here. When I was on his turf, I tried my best to stay out of his way. He could at least show me the same damn curtesy.

  Passing around another table, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise on end. I turned, found Jake a step behind me. “Don’t flatter yourself, Shaw,” he scoffed, “I’m not following you. I’m going back to the table.”

  “Why are you here in the first place?”

  “Work.”

  “Work,” I repeated doubtfully. I doubt half of Hautboy was going to grace a place like Trum’s with their musical talents.

  “Work.”

  Turning on my heel, I stepped into the hall that led to the back of the bar, where you could find the game room, the bathrooms, the kitchen, and the entrance to the stage. There was also a small, albeit dingy alcove with a working payphone. Though, no one ever used it. That’s what made it perfect. It was a dark, private space where you could get five minutes of peace.

  Leaning against the wall, I took a drawn out breath through my nose and released it slowly. Something had to give. I couldn’t keep fantasizing over a man who obviously didn’t share my infatuation. I knew nothing about him, and what little I did know wasn’t remotely promising.

  I needed to move on. The fuck if I wasn’t trying. But he was sabotaging my efforts every step of the way. I couldn�
��t even escape him in my dreams. Every morning I woke up sweating and tangled in the sheets, just short of an orgasm. It was too the point I was loath to sleep.

  The past week, dear God, was it torturous. When he wasn’t in the studio, he was killing me with kindness. Where you going, Shaw? Why are you going there? When are you going to be back? Are you going alone? Do you need help? Maybe I should come with you.

  It wasn’t cool. It was fucking obnoxious as hell. He reminded me of Carter, only Carter was genuine. His brazenness was the underpinning of his true personality. Jake’s curiosity was a ploy fabricated to annoy me into liking him. Although, it was having the opposite effect.

  Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Jake stuck his head into the alcove and squinted, likely searching for the men’s room, which was the next door over. “Shaw? Is that you?”

  “No.”

  “What're you doing in here?”

  “Waiting for my brother.” So that I didn’t look like an ass when Peter didn’t show up, I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted him.

  “Are you hiding from me?”

  “No.” Yes.

  His head cocked to the side. He stepped into the alcove with me. My back was against the wall. I had no room to move. “Your boyfriend brought your drinks. He’s waiting for you at the table.”

  He’s not my boyfriend, I almost said, but I refused to bestow him that clarification. “I’ll be right out.”

  Fuck. Jake flattened his palm on the wall just above my shoulder, and leaned in. “Are you doing this just to spite me?”

  In my mind, the image from the newspaper surfaced, the one with him hitting on the blonde. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, using his own words. “I had no idea you were going to show up here tonight.”

  “Are you going to fuck him?”

  Did you fuck her? I refused to ask. He was trying to make me slip. The nerve of him. He wanted to know if my world revolved around his, while I knew he was in another universe completely. “That’s none of your business.”

  His jaw ticked. “He was your first, wasn’t he?”

  That’s none of your business either, I didn’t say. It would’ve revealed too much. “He was the only one that mattered.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I lifted my shoulder, feigning objectivity. “I loved him. Anything after that was a meaningless fuck.”